I thought Mom was a bad cook -- until I learned she did it on purpose.

I thought Mom was a bad cook -- until I learned she did it on purpose.

Every day after school, I ran home, dropped my backpack and parked myself on the living room floor to watch cartoons. Mom brought out a plate of snacks -- apple slices, carrot sticks, maybe some edamame. Once in a while, as a treat, she surprised me with my favorite: mac and cheese.

I can still smell the cheese powder as it hits the freshly drained macaroni. One quick stir and the orange dust turns to sauce. The first bite always burned my tongue. I didn't care. Nobody made it like Mom. I scraped the bowl clean every time.

Then I went to college. One day, my roommate Ken asked if I wanted some. "Of course," I said without hesitation. Fifteen minutes later, he handed me a saucepan to eat from -- all the bowls were in the sink. I took one bite and froze. The sauce was smooth and rich, every noodle coated with flavor. So good, I would do Ken's dishes.

"This is from the box?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Yeah -- I just followed the directions."

I grabbed the blue box. Boil macaroni. Drain. Stir in cheese powder, milk and butter. Milk and butter? Mom never added either.

That night I called her. "Mom -- the box says milk and butter."

"I know," she said. "But too much isn't good for you."

"It's just a pat of butter."

"Those add up. Did you eat your vegetables today?"

She broiled fish with a dab of soy sauce. She steamed vegetables with a pinch of salt. Once, she blotted excess oil off a fried egg with a paper towel before it reached my plate.

Then I started eating out with friends. Ramen was so salty, I drank three glasses of water. Boba was so sweet, I ordered it with no sugar. Even carbonara felt heavy after a few bites.

Now, as a treat, I sometimes make mac and cheese. I know the milk and butter version has more flavor. But I make it the way Mom did -- missing half the directions. When I take that first bite, I'm back on the living room floor -- cartoons on, bowl in my lap.